The stars beyond the viewport shimmered like old ghosts, scattered across a velvet-black canvas. The Wraith drifted in quiet orbit around a dead system no name, no beacon, no records in any archive.
A place forgotten.
A place to remember.
Elara stood in the observation corridor alone, arms crossed over her chest as she stared at the twin moons below. One was cracked through its core, bleeding a red mist into the void. The other was untouched, pristine and pale.
It reminded her of herself.
The broken version.
The one still whole.
She didn't hear Aeron approach, but she felt him his presence always quiet, always deliberate, like the calm before a storm you didn't know you needed.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
"No," she replied, her voice calm. "But I think that's finally allowed."
They stood in silence for a long moment. There were no alarms. No threats. No recursive collapse looming. Just the gravity of memory pressing in like an old wound.
